


Rope

by Aipilosse



Series: Brim/Gil stuff [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, No bondage actually, Oropher at the end, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, ahaha i knew that would be a tag, the rope in question is actually rope making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 04:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30016422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aipilosse/pseuds/Aipilosse
Summary: For the prompt odd hobbies and Gil-galad. First posted on tumblr for jamcake.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Ereinion Gil-galad
Series: Brim/Gil stuff [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097582
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Rope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamcake_muses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamcake_muses/gifts).



Gil-galad twisted the strands in his hand mindlessly. Rope making was one of the many skills his foster father had taught him, and the one he enjoyed the most. If Círdan made noises about going fishing with Gil, or even worse, diving for pearls, he would always counter with an offer to spend a quiet afternoon twisting rope. 

Celebrimbor flicked his tongue over the head of his cock and Gil had to bite off the moan that rose unbidden. Brim’s pace stayed agonizingly slow though, and Gil wondered how long they had until Oropher showed up for his meeting. He grabbed another section of hair and started twisting. Gil could ask Brim to stop, or speed up, or he could just grab the back of his head and start fucking his throat, but that would rather prove his point that Gil was too impatient and bad at taking time to enjoy life’s simpler pleasures. 

Gil-galad was not impatient — would an impatient person enjoy rope making? He could be a patient person and still hold the opinion that thirty minutes was on the long end for a blow job. Well, hopefully it hadn’t been thirty minutes yet, or else Oropher would be at the door, about to walk in on Gil-galad in a very compromising position with the Sinda’s least favorite co-council member.

Finally, finally, Celebrimbor sped up slightly, the tight friction of his pursed lips making Gil’s heart speed and breath quicken. He clenched the section of hair he had been winding in his hand, resisting the urge to pull harder. That wasn’t what they were doing this afternoon. He tugged the hair lightly in warning. Brim looked up and squeezed his thigh in assent. Not that that was ever a question — he always swallowed. 

Gil-galad muffled a shout into forearm, the orgasm that had been building through Celebrimbor’s slow strokes and light suction finally cresting. 

Celebrimbor wiped off his mouth and laid his head on Gil-galad’s thigh and smiled sweetly up at him as Gil tried to get his breathing back under control.

“What the fuck were you doing to my hair?” he asked the moment Gil felt capable of speech.

“Um, twisting it?” Gil offered.

Celebrimbor felt his head, almost half his hair twisted into three-strand right laid sections. “Was I boring you? Was the blow job bad?” He looked genuinely offended. Celebrimbor always held himself to a high standard, whether it was in the forge, in the council chamber, or in the bedroom.

“No, no! I just wanted to keep my hands busy,” Gil said sheepishly. 

Celebrimbor raised his eyebrows. “I told you, you just can’t sit still.”

“That’s not what this was about!” Gil protested as he tucked himself back into his braies and smoothed his robes back down. Celebrimbor stood up, straightening his clothes. He glanced back at Gil, making sure he was presentable before opening the door.

“Thank you for your guidance, your Grace,” he said as he opened the door. He held it open for Oropher, who had been apparently waiting in the hall. Gil-galad was suddenly very glad he had thought to stifle any noises. Oropher looked at Celebrimbor’s haphazardly twisted hair in confusion. “Nice to see you, Lord Oropher,” Celebrimbor said with a smile. “Have a good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Celebrimbor,” Oropher said stiffly. He wrinkled his nose as he walked into the room. Gil tried not to think about how much the room must smell like sex.

“Hello, Lord Oropher. How may I be of service?”


End file.
